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Han Solo glanced up when the door to his and Leia's prison cell clanged open. Exhausted and worn, though he was, his adrenaline surged as he rose to his feet, positioning himself between the newcomer and his wife who was dozing on the thin cot in the corner.

A hooded figure entered, almost reluctantly, into the dimly lit cell, limping slightly. The person was slightly built and not as tall as Han, dressed in the black folds of an ebony cloak that shrouded his face in shadow and swept out at his feet. Solo decided he could take the guy easily, despite the fact that he had not eaten anything in two days.

Just as Han was prepared to take a swipe at the person if he came any closer, the man drew back his hood.

There, in front of him stood Luke Skywalker.

Solo froze. His friend looked haggard and exhausted. Judging from the younger man's battered features, Han guessed that maybe Palpatine's cronies had decided to teach him a lesson or two. *Doesn't pay too well to work for the bad guys, does it?* He thought bitterly.

"Luke," he greeted the Jedi through stiff lips.

Skywalker nodded, his eyes dark with an expression the smuggler could not recognize. "Han," he said quietly.

"Nice of you to pay us a visit," Solo commented, hoping his voice sounded as angry as he felt.

Before Luke could reply, Solo's fist cocked back and was propelled straight into the young Jedi's jaw.

Luke probably saw it coming, but he barely flinched. He was thrown to the floor without a sound. Han approached him, ready to deliver another angry blow, but stopped when he realized that Luke did not attempt to get up and defend himself. Neither did he try to speak.

Solo wanted to shake him. Did his friend know how they had grieved his death for the past six months? Did he even care? After all they had done for him, after all the times Han himself had saved the kid's miserable hide, Luke had turned around and betrayed them to the Empire.

Han, sufficiently blinded by anger, seized Luke by the front of his black robe and hauled him to his feet. "What in the worlds is wrong with you?" he all but shouted. His friend was limp in his incensed grip. He drew his fist back again, almost wishing Luke would fight back so he could have an excuse to batter some sense into the Jedi. "What were you thinking?" he cried, enraged.

"Han!" Leia's voice cried. She was awake now, getting to her feet, maybe to stop him from beating her brother into a pulp.

"How could you do what you did to your sister?" Solo demanded. "Throw her in here without any food or blankets—she's pregnant, for Hoth's sake!"

"Han!" Leia's voice repeated behind him. Solo was too angry to answer. All his fury that had built up inside him while he'd been sitting in this tiny prison cell finally had an escape. "Stop!" Solo pummeled Skywalker with another blow.

Luke, doubling over in a choked fit of coughing, tried to push Solo away in a feeble defense, stumbling backward. Han suddenly froze, seeing Luke's hands. They were bloodied and bruised purple and black. There was a 6-inch cauterized burn from his wrist, across the inside of his arm. His friend was shaking, falling back against the wall for support.

"Stars, what have they done to you?" he gasped, releasing the fistful of black robe.

"Nothing," Luke snatched his hands back, shutting his eyes and sinking to his knees in a tangle of heavy black cloth, his breathing heavy and labored. Bright red blood glistened on his lips and a new bruise was forming where Han had struck him. His nose was bleeding. Solo grabbed Luke's arm and pushed up his sleeve to the elbow. At his shoulder, he heard Leia gasp.

"You call this nothing?" he demanded, though his voice bore less of the harshness than it had before. He was beginning to feel sick inside. Luke's arms bore the same hideous bruises and marks as his hands. "Do you think I don't know what it looks like when someone has been tortured? What did they do to you?" He repeated. "What's going on?"

Luke only shook his head, leaning his head back against the stone wall, fighting to draw a breath and clear the dizziness and nausea. "I'm sorry," he whispered, coughing again, wiping the blood from his mouth. It smeared across his cheek. "I don't blame you if you hate me. I tried to keep you out of this and I failed." He swallowed, grimacing as he moved. "I just...wanted to come here and...make sure you were all right."

Han shook his head, kneeling in front of the Jedi, hands still gripping his friend's upper arms, feeling a sudden surge of guilt that he had just caused new injuries. "Tell me what's going on here, kid." The anger had drained from his voice, and with it, a memory floated to the front of his mind. *To think he was alive all this time*, he had said quietly to Leia, before they had left for Derra IV. *All this time and we didn't try to help him because we didn't know.*

Luke hunched his shoulders, shivering involuntarily as he drew his dark cloak tighter about him. "It's a very long story." His voice and cloudy blue eyes were pained. He glanced wearily up at his friend. "One I don't think I can tell right now. I don't know if you can forgive me....but just know that I am sorry." He dropped his gaze. His voice sounded broken and empty, near breaking down. "I am so sorry."

He moved to get to his feet, flinching again in pain. Bewildered, Han caught the Jedi's arm to help him up, but dropped it like a stone seeing Luke's sharp wince. "Luke..."

He straightened, his gaze going from Han to Leia. "I have to go. I—I may not see you again."

Leia was shaking her head, moving towards her brother, her expression one of alarm. "Luke, what are you talking about—where are you going?"

The Jedi bit his lip, brushing at the blood on his face with the back of his hand. "Vader is coming now to take me to the Emperor again. I'm not supposed to be here." He swallowed, catching his hand against the wall for support. "I'm so sorry we didn't meet again under happier circumstances...but..." he eyed the door again, swaying slightly, and repeated, "I have to go." He moved to leave, but his sister caught his hand.

"Luke, please don't," she murmured. "Stay with us...Maybe somehow—together—we can..."

"Leia—I can't—I shouldn't have come here." Luke suddenly stiffened and glanced past her again towards the door. "I must leave."

Han frowned after him. "Kid, what's going on—"

The door to the small cell suddenly hissed open, stopping them all in their tracks. Darth Vader stood in the doorway, a towering, hissing black giant, eclipsing the light.

Han's first reaction was panic, memories of Bespin flooding over him. But Vader wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Luke.

"You are strictly forbidden here," the dark lord rumbled, ignoring the other two occupants of the room. "The Emperor demands to see you at once."

Luke's eyes flashed—dread, revulsion, despair, all rolled into one. Then without uttering a word, casting his eyes briefly toward Han and Leia, he moved obediently to leave.

Not another word was spoken. Solo watched worriedly as the door slid shut behind his friend and Vader.

Leia, still eyeing the door, sank down again to the narrow cot. "I'm so afraid for him," she whispered, rubbing her arms, feeling a sudden chill in the air. "What's going on?"

Solo sat down next to his wife and took her hand, holding it tight. "I don't know," he answered, still watching the door apprehensively, dread curdling in his stomach. "I don't know."

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I know it's all a little heavy on the melodrama, but you all don't mind, do you? That's what I thought. (